


Sympathy for the Devil's Kid

by GertieCraign



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas is pissed, Castiel in the Bunker, Dean done fucked up when he was mean to Cas's smol, Ellipsis and Dash Abuse, Gen, Men of Letters Bunker, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-27 18:55:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12588404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GertieCraign/pseuds/GertieCraign
Summary: Cas resurrected a few hours ago. It was a wonderful reunion. Now, Dean is scrambling to hide the evidence of his emotional collapse so Cas won't have to see it.Meanwhile, Jack is filling Cas in on Dean's A+ nurturing so far.Cas...is not amused.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the beautiful people in the Mediocre-Meta chatroom.  
> *smooch*

 

 

At this point it was starting to seem pathetic. Dean shook his head.

The large trash bag was already half full and beginning to stretch around his fingers as he loaded it with the refuse that had accumulated in his normally well kept bedroom. He wished he could think it was mostly beer bottles adding to the excessive weight of the bag, but there’d been at least ten half-full containers of chinese take-out stacked along the shelf behind his bed. He didn’t remember when he’d started collecting them. He guessed the last one he’d tossed in had been the oldest, going by the burst of fruit flies that emerged when the top popped open.

He turned his head away in disgust and quickly tied the bag closed, but several of the tiny creatures had already escaped and continued to float around in his personal space. He realized this meant he’d have to do an immediate, full cleaning of the entire living area of the bunker. Otherwise, these little guys would become an unstoppable horde in about two weeks.

 _‘Perfect,’_ he thought. He scooted the bag toward the door and grabbed a new one, hoping he wouldn’t come across any more unintentional science experiments.

He glanced around the room and it occurred to him, as he scooped up used napkins, empty crab rangoon bags, and approximately ten thousand tiny packets of various sauces, that he’d only managed to clear one quarter of the room. He couldn’t even remember what might be awaiting him on the other side of the bed. He wasn’t looking forward to finding out.

It wasn’t the filth that was unsettling. Dean wasn’t squeamish. These nasty little boxes of rot had nothing on monster guts or decomposing corpses. What bothered Dean was knowing he was looking at stark evidence of who he is when he’s given up. It wasn’t pretty. Spilled beer that had been left to dry on the floor; sheets and pillows covered in stains and smeared with dried tears, sweat and snot; there were small splatters of whiskey-vomit on the side of his blanket from when it had splashed out of the small trash can he kept by the bed (used to keep there - he hadn’t bothered cleaning it out after that episode. He’d just taken the entire thing and thrown it in the incinerator.)

He compared that with the organized piles of research stacked on his desk and the fully cleaned, oiled and assembled weapons neatly packed into a duffel, ready to go in the trunk of the Impala.

Mission: 100% / Everything Else: 0

It was sobering.

He now understood why Cas had looked at him the way he had when they’d first seen each other a little over six hours ago. After he’d allowed Dean to hug him within and inch of his newly resurrected life, he’d pulled back and gotten a really good look at him. And then the sappy bastard gave him the worst possible expression he had in his entire, way-too-honest arsenal: The ‘I’m so sorry I failed you and I would do anything to fix it’ face combined with the ‘I know exactly who you are and I love you anyway’ face. It was horrible. Dean sobbed right there in the middle of the parking lot of the taco stand, in front of his brother, thirty strangers and the antichrist.

That ‘look’, though, had reminded him of the way Cas thinks - and how he’d respond to seeing evidence that his friend had completely crashed and burned without him. Cas wouldn’t take that well. Dean couldn’t do that to him. He needed to get his shit together and he needed to do it before Cas and Sam and Jack got back from their grocery run. He wouldn’t have enough time to scrub all of it away, but at least he could get rid of the blatant filth and most of the smell. And collect every scrap of fabric in that entire room and shove it in the bunkers industrial-sized washing machine, before Cas got home.

He refocused his efforts on the garbage collecting and slowly worked his way around the bed toward the dreaded ‘other side’. When he got there, he winced. It was worse than he’d feared.

His phone buzzed with Sam’s unique text alert. He looked over at where it was sitting on the side table on the opposite side of the bed, but didn’t move to get it. He had his hands full of things he didn’t want to think about so he continued stuffing it all into the bag. He’d get the message in a minute.

The phone buzzed again.

And again.

Dean started looking for something to wipe his hands on and the phone buzzed a fourth time. At this point, he suspected it was important, so he settled for wiping his hands on the cleanest part of the blanket he could find and hustled to get to the phone.

 

     _‘We have a problem.’_

_‘Jack just told Cas everything you said.’_

_‘He is super pissed. Too quiet. I've never seen’_

_‘Ok you need to hide until he cools off. NOT A JOKE’_

 

The phone rang. It was Sam.

“He told him w-”

“Shut up and listen! He just teleported. You need to _hide_. NOW! We’re on our way.”

“Hang on, he’s-”

“Poughkeepsie! HIDE!”

Dean was too surprised to really process what was happening, but the go-word snapped him into action.

“Shit!” He leapt over the first garbage bag and headed for the door of his room. He’d just stepped across the threshold when he heard the outer door of the bunker loudly slam and the key activating the lock on the inner door.

Dean broke into a full run, navigating the maze of corridors through multiple junctions, heading toward the stairwell to the lower level. He had no idea where he’d hide down there. He’d figure it out when he got there. Right now, he just needed to get the hell away from anywhere he’d usually hang out.

He was too far from the entrance to hear the inner door open and close, but he knew Cas was inside when he heard the hissing roar of wind. It was moving with terrifying speed from the war room, through and around the kitchen, and into the main corridor.

A split second of clarity had him wondering why he was running from his best friend at all, but that quickly vanished. Dean could track where the wind was and where it was headed by the sound alone. The path Cas was taking wasn’t chaotic - and the wind wasn’t dispersing down side passages as it went. It was contained, moving in a pattern that was methodical. Calculated. And heading straight for the back corridor.

Cas was hunting him.

He knew he had less than a second before the seraph would appear somewhere in that hallway and he needed to be hidden within the stairwell when he did. With any luck, Cas would pass by and continue the search on the main floor first. Otherwise…

Who was he kidding. There was no ‘otherwise.’ There was no way this was going to end well. All he could do now was stay hidden long enough for Cas to let go of some of the rage, and hope the ass-beating he eventually took wouldn’t be too severe.

The howling wind reached the t-junction leading to the back corridor right as Dean dove into the stairwell. He wedged himself into the corner just inside the door and froze, holding his breath through an act of sheer will.

The wind screamed past the stairwell and continued down the corridor, turning the corner at the far end.

Dean let himself breathe again and dropped his head back against the wall. He listened to the wind, mentally mapping the direction of movement and hoping Cas wouldn’t backtrack just yet. He needed to let him get far enough away for Dean to make another mad dash back to his bedroom.

It had only now occurred to him that his room was probably the safest place for him, considering the fresh warding he’d place along the inner door frame and around the air vents. It had been effective at keeping Jack out...which was it’s purpose. The kid hadn’t been able to enter even when the door was wide open. That had given Dean at least a small sense of security in his own home.

Once again, though, he was relying on luck and guessing. That was never good. It was entirely possible that Jack hadn't been able to get in because he didn’t have enough knowledge or experience to know how to override the warding. Cas, though, was a smart son of a bitch with a bazillion years of know-how up his sleeve. And he was back to full power. He might stroll right through.

That warding was the only real chance Dean had, though. He knew he needed to try.

He waited a few more seconds, listening for the wind to begin echoing in the stairwell at the other end of the sub-level. It would take Cas longer to get back to Dean’s room from that spot than almost anywhere else.

He’d barely gotten that idea formed before the sound was where he needed it to be. _‘Damn, he’s fast!’_ Dean thought and barreled out of the stairwell, down the back passage and through the first t-junction. He reached the second junction and heard Cas emerge from the stairwell he’d just been in.

He was too close. He'd catch him in about three seconds. Dean was five seconds from his room.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he muttered as he scrambled to get traction on the slick floors while still running in ‘silent-mode.’ It was extremely hard to do when he needed to move this fast.

To his amazement, he reached his room and dove through the entrance, spinning on his heel and closing the door as fast as he could without making a sound.

The next thirty seconds were horrifying. He wasn’t sure what he was hearing at first, but then it became very obvious. There was no more wind, but every two or three seconds, a series of loud ‘bangs’ would echo through the bunker. He recognized the sound as doors being thrown open hard enough to slam into the walls next to their frames. All of the sounds came from the same general area each time. And with each successive set of ‘bangs’, they got louder...and closer.

Dean closed his eyes and tried not to let it freak him out. He already had the mental image of a full-powered and extremely pissed off Castiel marching down each corridor of the bunker waving his hand in front of him and causing every door along his route to slam open, whether it was locked or not.

He opened his eyes and stared with sincere hope at the little sigils painted on the frame of his simple, old, lockless wooden door.

Eventually, the ‘bangs’ came from the hallway outside his room and the adjoining passage. His door rattled on it’s hinges, but remained closed. He held his breath.

There was a gust of wind and Dean noticed the air vent in his door got just a little darker. He took a step back so he could look through the grate and saw two legs clad in dark fabric and cheap boots. The legs weren’t moving.

The door rattled in it’s frame again, this time much harder and Dean heard a few small cracks as the panels and rails in the old door flexed their joints.

The rattling stopped.

Silence.

Dean stopped trying to stifle the sound of his own breath. The game was up. Cas knew he was in there - and he knew if he just stood there, he could make Dean sweat. Devious bastard…

Eventually, the legs moved and the toes of those boots pointed directly at the door.

“Dean.”

Dean instinctively took a half step backward and quietly cleared his throat. “Hey, Cas.”

The pause that followed was worse than before. Dean listened closely, waiting for some further indication of his friends current mood. Had it softened at all? He couldn’t tell just from how he’d said his name. Cas’s next words answered that for him.

“Remove. The warding.”

That...did not sound good. Not good at all.

“Yeah, that... kinda seems like a bad idea right n-” He cut himself off when a burst of wind erupted outside the door. The shadows of Cas’s legs vanished.

It took less than five seconds for Cas to return. The wind rattled the wooden door violently and Dean wondered how it was staying closed at all. The sigils he’d used must be even more powerful than he’d thought.

Something metal clanked down onto the floor and broke his train of thought. He couldn’t see what it was, but it sounded extremely familiar and his mind scrambled to place it.

He heard crinkling paper; something being shaken; jar lids popping open.

“Cas?” Dean asked. He tried to keep his voice sounding calm and neutral, hoping he could start talking his friend down. He opened his mouth to continue, but was cut off by several loud ‘clacks’, like rocks being thrown onto sheet metal.

Myrrh. Clumps of myrrh. Cas had the brass spell bowl. _’Shit,’_ Dean thought. _‘I knew it. Smart son of a bitch.’_

Cas’s voice was smooth and controlled, but Dean could still hear his own mortality in every syllable.

“You have _three_ angel feathers left in your collection. I’m holding one of them. If you don’t want me to waste it on this, remove the warding. Otherwise, back up and take cover. You have to the count of three. _One_.”

Dean barely had a reply formed when he heard, “ _Two._ ”

“Ok! Ok!” Dean shouted. “Just... Hang on!”

Dean pulled the small knife out of his ankle holster and scratched away a single sigil. He started to scratch away the next one down, but stopped when he realized the door was gone. It wasn’t opened, or exploded, or destroyed in a burst of holy fire or...sparkles or whatever. It just _.._.wasn’t _there_ anymore _._

Dean very tentatively let his gaze slide away from the door frame to look through the gaping hole that replaced what had been his only source of cover. Cas was less than a foot away.

In that moment, Dean fully understood why small animals freeze under a predator’s glare. He recognized the look on his friend face. It had been aimed his way once before. The last time had been in a dark alley where Cas had very clearly expressed his dismay at Dean’s decision to say ‘yes’ to Michael. This time, Cas’s face was better lit - that was the only difference.

The angel’s eyes darted to the knife in Dean’s hand. It, too, disappeared.

There was a brief moment in which they both mentally assessed their options. Dean was about to use a very weak wisecrack as a preemptive strike toward peace, but Cas saw the minute change in Dean’s expression and the thin leash he had on his temper snapped.

Dean felt himself being spun out of his room and shoved into the opposite wall faster than his eyes could track the movement. His lungs emptied in a single huff.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok...I'm just gonna post in random pieces, as I get bits done, 'cause I'm scared the show is about to prove all of this wrong and then it would just kinda seem pointless to keep going with it, so... Yeah, I'm running out of time. AAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
> 
> Why am I writing this? All I know is if I have to abandon this because canon trashes my head-canon before I'm done, then I'm totally gonna scavenge that chase scene in Chapter 1 for another fic. 'Cause I liked it. LOL

  

 

Dean swallowed.

“Cas-”

“ENOUGH!” Cas barked. The flashback of the alley became even more vivid. Cas was snarling - full kill-face - and pressed close enough for Dean to feel the angel’s breath when he spoke. “You. Have said. ENOUGH!”

Cas shoved him a little harder into the wall. Dean forced himself to ignore the flying spittle.

“Jack remembers all of it. He SHOWED me. You tried to _shoot_ an INFANT!”

“He was full grown,” Dean tried to protest. Cas cut him off.

“He was TEN MINUTES OLD! He knew nothing other than KELLY, and ME! He didn’t even know what I look like. He thought Sam was me! But you know who he DID know Dean? YOU!”

Dean stopped struggling.

“You were the one I thought of,” Cas said with an extra shove for punctuation. “You raising Sam. You didn’t know how but you did it anyway. And those thoughts...Jack felt them. Saw them. You were the _example..._ and you _rejected him!_ ” Cas pulled back and inch or so, taking Dean with him and thudding him back against the wall. “You _scorned_ him!” Thud. “Threatened to _KILL HIM!_ ”

Cas jerked him sideways and tossed him ten feet down the corridor.

Dean stumbled badly but managed to stay on his feet. He watched warily as his friend struggled to contain himself.

“ _He thinks he’s a MONSTER! HOPELESS! Not even worth TRYING to save!_ ” Cas took a step toward him and Dean partly raised his hands in a gentle surrender, trying to dissuade him. Cas stopped, still staring at him, but his expression became much more frustrated and sad. The anger was finally beginning to recede. “How could you be so cruel?”

Cas sighed in disgust and dropped his gaze to the side.

For a moment, they both just stood there and Dean wondered if he should say what he was thinking - whether it would matter or if it would just make this much worse. That thought was interrupted when the angel’s gaze settled on Dean’s room.

Cas took a couple of slow steps toward the open doorway, surveying the mess in silence.

Dean turned away. It had been bad enough when he was alone in there. No way did he want to see Cas absorb it in real time. He only looked back when Cas started to fidget - the guy had never learned to be subtle. Cas wore guilt and remorse like a flashing neon sign around his neck. It was impossible to ignore, even when you weren’t actually looking at him.

It hurt, watching Cas turn all of it back on himself. This was exactly what Dean had tried to avoid. He felt his own protective instincts flaring. None of this was Cas’s fault.

“He did something to you. Got in your head,” Dean began, only a little hesitant. He was finding his own anger difficult to contain, now. “He manipulated you. He tricked you… He _got you killed!_ ”

Cas huffed and looked over at him.

“He didn’t manipulate me. I chose to protect both him and Kelly of my own free will.”

“He LIED to you!” Dean barked, taking a couple of slow steps forward. “Made all those promises...got you to think he’d be good and helpful. Told you he’d make the world _paradise!_ That’s the same damn line of bullshit Lucifer’s been layin’ out there since... _forever!_ What was I supposed to think?!”

Cas squinted briefly in confusion, before some of his previous anger returned to his face.

“Exactly how gullible do you think I am?” Cas began, turning fully to face his friend once again. “I know you see me as naive. A terrible judge of character. You question my decisions. And maybe I deserve that. But I am still a seraph. I was _there_ when Lucifer and his followers rebelled. This isn’t just lore for me, it’s my own history. I _lived it!_ Do you honestly think I wouldn’t recognize one of my brother’s lies? Wouldn’t immediately be suspicious?”

“Then what the hell, Cas? You had to have known that was a pipe dream!”

“Of course I did!” Cas barked.

Dean blinked at him. This conversation was becoming bizarrely circular. Cas sighed heavily.

“When Jack showed me a vision of the future...what he wanted to create… I knew it was my own deepest wish being mirrored back to me. Jack saw what I wanted most and he imitated it. Just as a child imitates the sounds his parent makes or copies what he sees them do. It’s not manipulation. The child is learning. Patterning. I knew then there was hope for him. For all of us.”

“That doesn’t prove he’s good,” Dean argued.

“No. It proved he was teachable. Moldable. Human,” Cas said, much softer than before. “He was a blank slate, learning at an exponential rate, yes, but not inherently evil. Just...a child...who’d need love and training and patience. And protection.”

The look Cas was giving him, now, was far more meaningful and Dean could feel the fight leaving him. He also braced for what was coming. Cas was gearing up for a whammy. He could tell already. He almost interrupted, but Cas barreled forward in his monologue and didn’t give him the chance.

“But most of all, he’d need a wise and good parent. And even though I didn’t feel I was either of those things, I made the decision to be that for him anyway. Because he needed me.” A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Just as you did when Sam needed you.”

And...there it was. Fuck. Dean closed his eyes. Luckily, the moment didn’t last. Cas wasn’t done.

“I knew you feared him. And I knew you didn’t trust my judgement. But it never occurred to me that I might have to convince you to be kind to a child.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to omgbubblesomg for helping me to get rid of the craziness I had in this chapter yesterday. It was bad folks. Terrible. I'm so grateful to her. She's a FABULOUS editor and beta.  
> *smooch* Doc!
> 
> She didn't get a chance to beta the rewrite, though, so all the errors are mine.

 

 

“That’s not fair.” Dean said, finally able to open his eyes and look at his friend.

“No, Dean. What you did to Jack... _that_ wasn’t fair!” Cas snapped. “I tried to prepare him. In case I didn’t survive. I impressed my feelings for you on his grace. I told him: _‘Dean is my friend. He’s good. He’ll tell you the truth. He’ll treat you fairly. And if you fall...he’ll help you get back up. He’ll make mistakes, but he’ll always try to do the right thing. You can trust him. In everything.’_ I _told_ him that, Dean!”

Dean was still trying to recover from the previous blows. A thousand rehearsed, rage-filled arguments screamed in his mind, battling against the tide of guilt threatening to drown him. He wanted to apologize _and_ he wanted to take a swing at the angel. It was disorienting.

“Well you shouldn’t’a told him that,” Dean barked. “That’s not on me. I didn’t sign up for this!”

Cas looked stunned. He slowly shook his head, trying to process what he was hearing, and asked, “What happened to you?”

 _‘Life,’_ Cas’s voice rang out clearly in Dean’s mind. He flinched, recalling the conversation, years ago, when he’d asked that same question of an alternate version of Cas - a version so broken and hopeless Dean had felt like he was talking to a stranger. Cas’s flippant, bitter response still haunted Dean. It had been the moment he’d realized just how fragile and ‘human’ Cas really was underneath all that power - and how far the angel could fall.

Dean watched as the same mix of shock, pain and disillusionment he’d felt back then, rolled across Cas’s face. He dropped his gaze.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Dean said at a much lower volume. It was getting harder for him to breathe.

Cas slumped, still staring at Dean, waiting for an explanation. None came. Eventually, he, too, looked away. Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he turned back toward Dean’s room.

“Jack knew you as good. And honest. He believed everything you said…” Cas trailed off. He spent a few moments surveying the wreckage of the bedroom again. “I see now...losing your mother, and being handed another child to raise… It was too much.” He bowed his head. “Perhaps it still is.”

The way Cas said it - the slight turn further away; the regret, and worse, the _resignation_ in his voice - made Dean’s blood run cold.

‘No!’ Dean shouted, taking quick steps toward the angel. “Don’t even think about it.”

Cas turned further still and Dean reached out and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him forcefully back around to face him.

“We’ll be fine,” Cas said, not meeting Dean’s eyes. “I’m still prepared to raise him. I’ll find a place where he and I-”

“That _place_ is _here!_ RIGHT HERE!” Dean said, at a near scream. His face twisted and he stepped all the way into the angel’s space, still gripping him by the shoulder. He fought the urge to grab Cas’s other shoulder, too, and shake him until his vessel’s teeth rattled.

“Cas, if you take that kid and split, so help me, I will _hunt you down,_ and I will _drag your ass back here_ and keep a ring of _holy oil_ lit around this ENTIRE GOD DAMNED BUNKER _for the rest of my FUCKING LIFE!”_

That got Cas’s attention. He still looked dejected, but a tiny spark of hope had returned.

“Don’t you _DARE_ LEAVE AGAIN!” Dean yelled, and the last word came out broken. Tears filled his eyes and spilled over, but he never looked away. He continued to stare right at his friend.

“I tried. I prayed, Cas. To Chuck...to anyone I thought might hear. I didn’t know who else…” He stopped to swallow, and took in a halting breath. “I prayed to you. Over and over, but you... I knew you couldn’t hear me. Your wings burned. I know what that means. But I kept talkin’ to you anyway. Right to the end... I waited to throw the lighter... ‘cause I thought maybe... But, everybody was gone, Cas. _Everybody_.” He finally lowered his gaze.

“Dean,” Cas whispered.

“I didn’t mean to hurt the kid,” Dean continued. “I mean, I did… I did mean to… I hated him. I _wanted_ to hate him. I _had_ to. ‘Cause if he’s evil, then it made sense. He used you and got you killed and I knew what I needed to do. Then that’d be it... I’d be done. But if he was just a kid...” He quickly wiped his face, then looked back up. “I couldn’t do it, Cas. You were gone, and he was...there, and...I just couldn’t see the point. Of any of it. Not anymore.”

Cas was silent for an agonizingly long time, while Dean continued to stare expectantly at him. Eventually, Dean dropped his gaze and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Please say something,” he pleaded. “Come on, man, I’m standing here sayin’ all this... I feel like an asshole.”

Cas seemed to snap himself out of whatever had him stuck. He stepped forward and put his arms around Dean, pulling him tight and resting his chin on his friend’s shoulder. Dean sank into the hug gratefully and buried his face in Cas’s coat.

“Don’t leave. Ok?” Dean pleaded into the heavy fabric. “Stay.” He was showing no signs of letting go, so Cas pulled him closer and settled in.

“I won’t leave,” Cas murmured.

“You and Jack... You’ll both be safe here.”

“We won’t leave, Dean. I’ll stay. _We_ ’ll stay.” He very lightly pat Dean’s back. “And...we’ll all work together. From now on.”

Dean sniffed and pulled Cas much tighter. “‘Bout time,” he grunted. It came out as more of a sob, but it didn’t stop him. “Dumbass.”

Cas snorted, then closed his eyes, wincing at the memory of the last time they’d had this same conversation. He, too, tightened his grip.

“I meant it,” Cas said quietly. “When I said I’d like for us to be together, again. I wasn’t lying, Dean.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean whispered.

“I was trying to protect you. I didn’t _want_ to...do what I-”

“I know, Cas,” Dean said, returning the pats Cas had been giving him. “We’re good.” He sniffed hard again and cleared his throat. “You’re still a dumbass.”

Cas snorted again. This time he smiled.

“Perhaps, this evening, we can just...talk a bit. And enjoy each other’s company. Maybe the four of us can start over?”

“Yeah,” Dean said with a nod.

“Then tomorrow...when everyone has had some rest...we can start trying to find Mary.”

There was a momentary pause in Dean’s breathing, before he nodded again. “Sounds good.”

Cas sighed. “I’m glad to hear that. Sam mentioned you were reluctant-”

“You’re back, now,” Dean interrupted. “So...yeah. We’ll find her.”

Cas’s brow furrowed, but he said nothing more about it. They were both silent for a long stretch, neither of them giving any indication that he wanted to let go.

“I didn’t say it back,” Dean mumbled into Cas’s coat.

Cas squinted. He gave his friend a moment, waiting for him to continue, but Dean seemed to have decided that it didn’t need further explanation.

“Uhhm…” Cas said.

“You told us you love us,” Dean said with a frustrated huff.

Cas’s frown deepened.

“I didn’t say it back. I shoulda said it,” Dean mumbled.

“Oh.” Cas said, finally understanding.

“It’s what messed me up the most,” Dean said. His voice was getting more strained with each sentence. “I didn't say it back and you were gone. You never heard me say it.’”

Cas sighed. “You didn’t need to say-”

“Yeah, I did,” Dean grunted, a little louder. “I love you too. Ok? I do. I love you, too.” His voice broke and Cas could feel him tightening his grip. He was definitely crying again. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it back,” he barely managed to blurt out.

“Dean,” Cas whispered. “It’s alright.”

“No it isn’t. I shoulda said it and I didn’t. I’m sorry, Cas.”

“I forgive you,” Cas whispered. He felt Dean shake, trying to draw in a breath and he renewed the gentle pats on his back. He also began rubbing small circles and he leaned his head against his friend’s.

“Thank you,” Dean whispered.

“Of course.”

The moment lingered for far longer than either of them would later admit to, but eventually, Dean sniffed and shifted his stance a little. He wasn’t letting go, but Cas could tell he was getting ready. The angel gave him several more pats, while he pressed their heads together.

“You’re gonna make a great dad,” Dean said.

Cas smiled. “Thank you,” he said with unfiltered gratitude. “That was a very kind thing to say.”

“It’s true,” Dean said, slowly releasing his hold and pulling back. Cas followed suit. “You’re gonna be awesome. Jack’s lucky.” Dean went about wiping and pinching and rubbing at his face, trying to get himself cleaned up so he could see, and breathe through his nose again. When he finally looked at his friend...his very puffy eyes opened much wider.

“Are you crying?!” he blurted.

Cas reached up and wiped his face. He looked at his hand with mild shock and embarrassment...and then he blushed.

“I didn’t think you did that,” Dean said without an ounce of tact.

“I, uh...only ever cried when I...didn’t have my grace. I’m...um…” He wiped his face again and sniffed. “This is rather embarrassing.”

“Seriously?” Dean deadpanned. He pointed to his own destroyed face with both hands.

Cas grinned and then turned away.

“Jesus,” Dean groaned as he rubbed his eyes one last time. “I need a beer. Like... _now.”_

He reached out, intending to pop his friend on the arm, but changed his mind the moment he made contact. He pulled Cas forward a step and draped his arm over the angel’s shoulder, hooking it around the other side of his neck. A quick, affectionate tug got a much bigger smile out of Cas as his face was smooshed lightly into Dean’s shoulder and chest.

“Ya know...screw the beer. Let’s hit the hard stuff and get good ‘n drunk, Cas. Whaddya say?” Dean started walking toward the kitchen, dragging Cas along by the head and neck. Cas tucked an arm behind Dean and hugged him around his back.

“That...sounds like a terrible idea,” Cas said, as though agreeing.

“Eh, yeah...guess we gotta think of the kid now, huh? They better get back with food soon, then, ‘cause I haven’t eaten in at least a day. A couple beers is gonna hit me.”

“You could limit your intake-”

“Pfft!” Dean gestured with his free hand. “Yeah, that’s...not gonna happen.”

Cas snorted and pat his friend’s back again almost reflexively. Dean looked down at him and grinned. Cas grinned back… and Dean kissed the top of the angel’s head.

  



End file.
